Tank Racing!
by Sduffy
Summary: St. Gloriana and the other schools enter a different kind of tank competition...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Girls und Panzer is copyright Actas and Girls und Panzer Projekt. I do not own anything except for the original characters herein.

**Chapter 1**

Nilgiri was browsing the news in the elegant tranquility of St. Gloriana's common room when something she read made her sit bolt upright in her chair, nearly overturning the cup of tea she had balanced on the armrest. "Fantastic!" she cried, drawing curious glances from the other students present. She read the article twice through, then leapt up and hurried out of the room. She practically sprinted down the long hallway outside, footfalls echoing off the plaster walls. Skidding around a corner, she passed through a granite archway and cut across the quadrangle's perfectly manicured grass. Still running, she entered one of the accommodation halls and clattered up the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Finding the door she wanted, she pounded on it repeatedly. "Tank racing!" she exclaimed breathlessly when it finally opened.

"…I'm sorry?" said Ceylon warily.

"Tank racing! Here, in this article! Read it!"

Ceylon took the tablet that Nilgiri was insistently offering and scrolled through the news item. "Kobayashi Toshiro - he's that media magnate, isn't he? - is offering prize money for the top three finishers in a tank race to be held next month at the Suzuka grand prix circuit…"

"This is right up my street," enthused Nilgiri. "Tankette racing is how sensha-dō originated, but none of the high schools here practice it anymore."

Ceylon had to grin at her team-mate's excitement. "It says that the tanks must be sensha-dō legal. It's specifically aimed at getting the school teams to participate."

"Well, he has a taker here. The Mark VI is fast enough to be a contender."

"You'll have to get permission from commander Darjeeling," Ceylon reminded her. "But I doubt she'll deny you. Let's go tell Keemun."

* * *

Ceylon, Nilgiri and Keemun were the crew of St. Gloriana's Vickers Mark VIc light tank, as commander, driver and gunner respectively. Ceylon was a tall brunette with grey eyes and a bob cut. Nilgiri, shorter, had long dark blond hair in a ponytail and large brown eyes. Keemun was a blue-eyed redhead with a quick temper. Now, all three sat facing Darjeeling in the sensha-dō team's office as she perused the official race rules. At last, she leaned back.

"Kobayashi-sama stipulates that only one tank per school may enter the competition. There may be other drivers on our team who are interested."

"Perhaps we should hold a race of our own to select our challenger?" said Ceylon.

Darjeeling nodded. "That's an excellent idea. The participating tanks must meet sensha-dō requirements and have a top speed no faster than 60 kph. The Mark VI is a good choice, as are our Cromwells if we keep the speed governors installed."

"That means no Hellcats or BTs," said Nilgiri with some relief.

"Nilgiri-san, I'd like you to canvas the team for any other candidates," said Darjeeling. "Ceylon-san, you will be in charge of setting up our race track."

"Yes, commander," replied Ceylon. "I'll research the proposed course and put together something we can race and train on."

"Good. I'm glad you brought this to my attention, Nilgiri-san. It will promote interest in our sport and perhaps open up tank racing as a school elective," said Darjeeling. "My grandmother told me about the tankette races and gymkhanas they used to hold when she was young."

* * *

The next morning, Ceylon walked over to the automotive club's hanger. Lapsang Souchong, a very tall girl with short, untidy black hair, was standing by an open garage door wearing a dark blue boiler suit.

"Ceylon! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Um, I've got a favour to ask of you again…" said Ceylon.

Lapsang looked reproving. "When Nilgiri stops by, it's for a nice gossip over a cuppa. She brings chocolate biscuits."

Ceylon raised her hands. "Fine, you've got me. I'll bring some confections next time. But I really do need your expertise."

"Oh, all right," Lapsang relented. "What's the job?"

"I need to create a racing track… for tanks."

Lapsang smiled. "Nilgiri told me about that. The race is at Suzuka, isn't it?"

Ceylon nodded. Lapsang beckoned her inside the hanger. At one of the computer stations in the back, she brought up a picture of the figure eight course. "It's one of the most popular circuits in Formula 1 racing. It will be a worthy venue for the event. Tea?"

Ceylon accepted the steaming mug. "From what I've gleaned on the internet, it will be modified to include off-road sections with various obstacles."

"Well, we won't be able to recreate the entire track here," noted Lapsang, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "So, we'll create a small representative section. It'll be roughly oval with a chicane, some S-bends, a straightaway and the aforementioned unpaved obstacle course." She began sketching out the concept with a stylus.

"Won't it cost a lot to pave part of the campus?" wondered Ceylon.

"Oh, there's no need for that," said Lapsang smugly. "We can just make some modifications to our existing test track."

"We have a test track?"

Lapsang gave her a pitying look. "What, do you think us automotive club types spend our time working on cars just to putter around on residential streets afterwards?"

"No, I just thought you spent _all_ your time working on the cars."

"Touché. We'll try and have the changes done early next week, if that will work for you."

"Yes, splendid," said Ceylon. "Thanks ever so much."

"Not at all. Once again, you've given us something new and different to try. My fellow club members and I await the racing with great anticipation."

* * *

"Interest has been rather lukewarm," announced Nilgiri in Darjeeling's office a day later. "However, Oolong-san will race me in a Cromwell to see who gets to represent our team."

"What about students from the automotive club?" asked Darjeeling.

"They all said they're keen to watch, but they'd rather stick to driving cars."

"Very well," said Darjeeling. "Shall we set the race for Wednesday?"

The others nodded.

"Now we must discuss logistics. Have you heard this saying? 'An army marches on its stomach'."

There was a pause.

"…I'm assuming that's a metaphor-" began Ceylon.

"It means that the unglamourous background details are often what determine the difference between victory and defeat," said Darjeeling quickly. "We must decide on a maintenance crew for our tank, coaching, a training schedule and so on."

"Lapsang Souchong-san and three of the other automotive club members have agreed to be the pit crew," said Nilgiri.

"I had hoped as much," smiled Darjeeling.

"I hadn't really thought about coaching," admitted Nilgiri. "We do drive our tanks at high speed fairly often. I could ask the automotive club to give us some tips, I suppose."

Keemun spoke up. "Ōarai's flag tank drifted pretty spectacularly during the National Championship finals. I bought the Blu-Ray, and it has a commentary track with the crew."

"Ooh, let's watch!"

Keemun fetched the video and they played the final few minutes of the match, watching the Pzkpfw IV slide gracefully around the Tiger tank. Mako's voice spoke over the action in a monotone.

"Commander Nishizumi asked me to try and drift around the other tank like we did against St. Gloriana. I told her it would rip the tracks off. She said to do it anyway."

"That was sugoi, Mako-chan!" cried an excited voice, probably Saori. "How did you do that?"

"It's simple if you just read the manual," replied Mako laconically.

This was the extent of Mako's technical explanation. Scanning through the rest of the video and extras revealed no other advice on tank drifting.

"Well, that was very helpful, I don't think," said Keemun sourly.

"Keemun-san," said Darjeeling. "I would like you to scout out the opposition - find out which other schools are entering, who their drivers are, what tanks they are using, that sort of thing."

"Certainly, commander!" exclaimed Keemun, happy to have something to do.

"Until Wednesday then, ladies!"

**Author's Notes:** This is the third outing for my St. Gloriana light tank crew OCs as they explore tank racing, introduced in the supplemental materials for the series. As the driver, this is really Nilgiri's show. As a reviewer noted previously, St. Gloriana has far too much money to have to make the automotive club do double duty as tank mechanics, but the 'part time enthusiasts working in a drafty shed' trope is just too British to pass up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Wednesday dawned overcast, but the sun soon burned through the clouds to beat down on the heads of the spectators in the stands around the test track. Darjeeling had publicized the event well, and much of the school ship's population had turned up to make a day of it. A vast blue-and-white striped marquee had been erected as a tea tent and an announcer's booth with a PA system was situated by the finishing straight.

The track had been modified as Lapsang had suggested. It formed an oblong one and a half miles long. The straightaway led into a banked corner followed by another straight section that terminated in a chicane. Past this, a sweeping right hand curve had been covered in dirt and dotted with mounds and berms, all situated haphazardly. Back on the pavement, a close-bunched series of four corners created S-bends to bring the circuit back to the finish line.

The Vickers Mk. VI and a Cromwell Mk. IV were lined up side-by-side on the start line, engines idling. Several members of the automotive club were fussing over them, making last minute adjustments.

The announcer, an excitable first-year, began warming up the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen! Many decades ago, tank racing was born from the ashes of worldwide conflict! This noble sport has sadly fallen into decline… until now! It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to St. Gloriana's tank race qualifying challenge!"

"Where did they find her?" murmured Keemun, sitting with Ceylon in the bleachers.

"Two tanks! Two glamorous charioteers who will vie over three intense laps for the honour of representing our school at Suzuka's hallowed tarmac!"

"Who wrote this purple prose?" Keemun chortled.

Ceylon gave her a sideways look. "I did."

Keemun had a sudden fit of coughing.

"Please put your hands together for the driver of the Cromwell, Oolong-san! She's a second year student who collects tea cozies and wants to be a biochemist!"

Oolong, dressed in St. Gloriana's scarlet battle uniform, walked stolidly out to stand beside her tank amid the applause.

"And driving the Vickers light tank is Nilgiri-san! She is also in her second year here. She enjoys corresponding with pen-friends and her ambition is to be a stunt driver!"

Nilgiri waved smilingly to the stands.

Darjeeling now advanced onto the track. "Oolong-san, Nilgiri-san, the race is three laps from a standing start. Orange Pekoe-san will indicate the start with a green flag and the finish with the chequered flag."

Orange Pekoe, standing beside the track holding the flags, gave them a cheerful wave.

"Are you both ready?"

They nodded.

"Then to your vehicles and may the best driver win!"

Oolong and Nilgiri climbed into their seats and waited tensely for the start. The audience hushed.

"Drivers ready!" the announcer warned. "Three! Two! One! Go!"

Orange Pekoe whirled the green flag through the air. Engines roared and belched exhaust fumes. The Cromwell accelerated away smoothly, but in her excitement Nilgiri had failed to seat the gear preselect lever properly and the Mark VI remained stationary. Nilgiri winced. She reengaged first gear and finally got underway.

Ahead, the Cromwell was trundling into the first curve at considerably less than maximum speed.

"Don't wait for me Oolong!" yelled Nilgiri. "You're supposed to be racing me!"

The Cromwell finally sped up, moving towards the top of the banking. Nilgiri reached top gear and slowly began to catch up. She had halved the distance between them by the time they reached the chicane. Oolong played it safe and took the turns at a leisurely pace. Nilgiri was more reckless and ran up onto the rumble strips as she cut the corners, skidding into the start of the obstacle course.

Here, the Cromwell's longer chassis allowed Oolong to take the bumps and hillocks at a reasonably high speed. Nilgiri was jolted around unmercifully as the Mark VI rocked back and forth on its suspension. She had fallen farther back by the time they reached the esses. Oolong was gaining confidence and did a fair job maintaining speed through the corners, but Nilgiri continued her aggressive driving and began to close in once more. The two tanks clattered down the straightaway to the roar of the crowd.

"The first lap is complete and Oolong-san leads!" shouted the announcer.

"Come on, Nilgiri! Go!" yelled Ceylon and Keemun as their teammate zoomed past.

The Cromwell's performance improved on the second lap and it was only Nilgiri's speed advantage that allowed her to keep up. Going into the third and final lap, the two tanks were neck and neck. Oolong took the high line on the banked turn while Nilgiri went low and was forced to slow down. She again pulled level on the next straight. Oolong slowed early for the chicane and Nilgiri passed her on the inside before applying the brakes with all her strength. She was in front as they reached the unpaved portion for the third time.

"Yes! If she can just stay close enough to Oolong, she'll be able to out-accelerate her before the finish!" cried Keemun.

Oolong pulled level with Nilgiri over the hummocks, tracks churning up the dust. The wind blowing across the track flung it into Nilgiri's eyes. The onlookers saw her miss the first of the S-bends, bumping over the grass. She corrected as best she could, but Oolong had no such difficulty and negotiated the turns with ease. The Mark VI was a few meters behind the Cromwell as they reached the final straightaway and the deficit was too much to overcome. Oolong crossed the line in front as Orange Pekoe waved the chequered flag wildly. The crowd cheered and applauded.

"Oolong-san wins!" screamed the announcer.

"No! I don't believe it!" Ceylon held her hands to her head.

The tanks slowed to a halt. Oolong extricated herself from the driver's compartment and hopped down onto the asphalt. Nilgiri was much slower getting out of her tank. She stood still for a long moment and then walked unsteadily over to Oolong.

"Congratulations, Oolong-san. You raced superbly. I know you will do us proud at Suzuka." She shook Oolong's hand. She was as white as a sheet under the layer of dust. The audience was quiet as Ceylon and Keemun arrived by her side.

"Come on, Nilgiri, let's get out of here," said Ceylon. They guided her off towards the school's playing fields. Once out of sight of the track, Nilgiri tumbled gently to the grass.

"Well," she said faintly, staring up at the sky. "That didn't go too well, did it?"

**Author's Notes:** The light tank Mk. VI had a Wilson preselector gearbox which worked like something in between a manual shifter and an automatic transmission. The tank is started in neutral, then a gear preselect lever to the right of the driver is moved to first gear. Pressing a gear change pedal engages the preselected gear similarly to the semi-automatic paddle shifters on a racing car. Once moving, Nilgiri will move the lever to the next gear she anticipates needing. When she's ready, she engages it with the pedal.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The text message came through as Ceylon and Keemun were plying Nilgiri with tea and cakes at a small café near the school grounds.

"Commander Darjeeling wants to see us in her office right away," said Ceylon looking at her phone.

"I don't want to go back there," mumbled Nilgiri around a mouthful of Battenberg. "Not yet. I can't face all the pitying looks they'll give me. Do they sell anything stronger than tea here?"

Ceylon sighed. "Chin up. We have to go back sometime; it might as well be now."

Nilgiri let them lead her back to the school. Luckily, the halls were mostly empty. Ceylon rapped on the door to the office and Darjeeling bade them enter. To their surprise and Nilgiri's dismay, Oolong was also there. Darjeeling looked serious.

"As the English say, I won't beat about the bush. Oolong-san insists that you, Nilgiri-san, should be the one to represent us at the race."

Nilgiri looked uncomfortable. "You won fair and square, Oolong-san. Don't do this just to try to cheer me up."

Oolong met her gaze. "I did well, but I cannot win against the other schools. We need someone with your… drive, if you'll pardon the pun."

Nilgiri smiled despite herself. "I made some pretty glaring mistakes."

"Nothing practice and a pair of goggles won't fix. Nilgiri-san, everyone on the team feels the same way I do. I only agreed to the race because you insisted," said Oolong gently.

Darjeeling stood in front of Nilgiri. "Nilgiri-san, can you do it? Can you win this for us?"

Nilgiri brought her head up. "Yes," she answered firmly.

"Good! But I would strongly urge you to find an experienced coach," said Darjeeling. "We still have a few weeks left for training."

"Yes commander! Thank you all for putting your trust in me."

Keemun patted Nilgiri on the shoulder as they left. "I know how much this means to you. You really are the one who should do it."

"I need to improve a lot, though," replied Nilgiri seriously. "And I have an idea about how to start."

* * *

Two days later, Ceylon, Keemun and Lapsang were holding a planning session at one of the workstations in the back of the automotive club's hanger. Keemun looked up from her laptop.

"The official race website has a list of all the registered entrants and what they're driving, so my assignment is easy."

Lapsang looked interested. "So, who's the opposition?"

"So far, Bonple have entered a 7TP with driver Magda-san, Maginot have a AMR-35 driven by Marianne-san, Pravda is using a T-34/76 with Oxana-san driving, and… oh ho! Ōarai have entered their famous Pzkpfw IV with Mako-san, the Drift Queen!"

Lapsang rubbed her hands together with glee. "I say, this is shaping up to be an remarkable motorsport event!"

The sound of the side entrance door opening and closing and voices echoing in the vast interior space made them all turn and look.

"Is that Nilgiri?" queried Ceylon. "I haven't seen her since yesterday morning."

It was. She came into sight around some utility shelving and smiled to see her classmates. "I was hoping I'd find you here!" She beckoned to someone out of view.

"I'd like to introduce you to my new coach, Tanaka-sensei!"

A middle-aged, overweight man with long, greying hair wearing jeans and a sport jacket came hesitantly around the corner. He wore a look of mild bewilderment which intensified upon seeing Nilgiri's friends.

Ceylon, Keemun and Lapsang, equally befuddled, leapt to their feet and bowed to the stranger. "Welcome, Tanaka-sensei!"

"Sensei, these are my friends, Ceylon-san, Keemun-san and Lapsang-san."

"Pleased to meet you," said Mr. Tanaka in a low baritone, returning the bow. "But, I haven't agreed to coach anyone yet."

"Now, sensei, I'm sure it's only a matter of time," said Nilgiri winningly.

Lapsang had been studying the newcomer. "Tanaka, as in Tanaka Jiro the rally driver?"

"The same!" beamed Nilgiri. "Ranked seventh in the world during his WRC career, I might add."

"I'm an ex-rally driver. I haven't driven competitively in over a decade. I've never coached, either."

"But you were still interested enough to come to our school ship and talk it over," Nilgiri pointed out.

"Only because it was easier than having you keep pestering me."

Ceylon tugged on Nilgiri's sleeve. "May I have a word?" They walked out of earshot. "Nilgiri, do you remember the time when we had that conversation about not being so impulsive?"

Nilgiri looked mildly offended. "As I recall, you were one of the ones cheering me on when I tried to drag race that guy at the stoplights."

"That's not the point!"

Nilgiri spread her arms. "I need a coach. Darjeeling-san herself said so. Then I thought: why not a rally driver? They compete on unpaved roads. So, I did some research and lo and behold, I found Mr. Tanaka living in Kanagawa Prefecture, not a mile from our own home port."

"And he was good? Number seven in the world?"

"Number seven in the world," confirmed Nilgiri.

Ceylon sighed. "Well, if you can convince him…"

They returned to the others to find them offering Mr. Tanaka black tea in a delicate bone china tea service and rock cakes on a silver tray. He accepted them cautiously. "Thanks. You're… very British."

"Thank you, Tanaka-sensei!" they all chorused. Mr. Tanaka closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You do realize that I know nothing about tanks?" he said.

"That's all right, sensei," said Nilgiri. "We know about tanks. It's the rally racing aspect where we need your expertise."

"I would have to charge you a lot of money, since I will have to close my shop while I'm here," Mr. Tanaka warned.

"Money is no object, sensei."

Mr. Tanaka threw up his hands. "All right! I'll do it."

"Splendid!" said Ceylon. "We'll get the school to draw up a contract for you. I imagine you'll want to get your affairs on shore in order as well. Shall we say Monday morning for the first session?"

**Author's Notes:** With a team full of impressive drivers, I still don't think it will be much of a surprise to readers that Ōarai chose Mako to send to Suzuka. She's just too good at what she does and the Panzer IV's combination of speed and reliability is as good as or better than any of their other tanks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The Mark VI lurched into the corner, tracks hurling up dirt. The light tank overcorrected sharply before surging forwards again. Hurtling up a berm, it went briefly airborne before slamming down again nose first. It regained the tarmac and threaded through the S-bends with the engine roaring. Crossing over the finish line, Nilgiri brought the tank to a screeching halt. Mr. Tanaka emerged from the commander's hatch looking queasy.

"What on Earth possessed me to do this?" he muttered under his breath before Nilgiri demanded the lap time from Lapsang.

"Three minutes, twelve seconds," reported Lapsang. "You've shaved off another second."

"Super!" said Nilgiri. "I think I did a good job with the curves there."

"Yes," said Mr. Tanaka, massaging his temples. "Your lines were good; you hit the apex of the turns. But we still have to work on your start. You're flooring the gas pedal way too quickly. If you ease it in, your tires… tracks… won't lose traction."

"Yes, sensei!" replied Nilgiri eagerly.

"You also spent too much time coasting. You should always be either accelerating or braking."

"Righto! Shall we go again?"

Mr. Tanaka rolled his eyes heavenward.

After the day's training, Mr. Tanaka took a cup of tea to fortify him. "It's been a long time since I raced," he muttered. "But there I was sitting down with a five-point harness. Here, I'm standing up and rattling around in a metal box."

"Biscuit, sensei?" said Ceylon, offering a plate of chocolate digestives.

"Thanks," said Mr. Tanaka, helping himself. "Nilgiri-san, there are rally driving basics that we need to cover, but tanks aren't cars. I don't know if any of these techniques will even work."

"We can but try, sensei," said Nilgiri encouragingly.

Mr. Tanaka shrugged. "OK, the idea is that you have more control when the car is sliding, because there's more friction. You need to slide through turns by breaking the back end loose." He illustrated this using his hands. "You can do that with the handbrake or by shifting the weight to the front of the vehicle with the regular brakes. Pressing the gas pedal shifts the weight back and you straighten out. The steering wheel is used to correct any over steer."

"Steering levers in my case," said Nilgiri thoughtfully. "All right, we can use our training field to practice those methods tomorrow."

* * *

Nilgiri drifted the Vickers effortlessly around the set of orange warning cones they had set up in the middle of St. Gloriana's practice field to represent a corner. "I could do this all day!" she crowed.

"Yeah, you do that," said Mr. Tanaka. "I'll just watch from here. Good job, though."

He was seated in a deck chair that Ceylon had provided to observe Nilgiri's progress and had a plate piled high with cucumber sandwiches in his lap. "I could really get used to the food here," he remarked to Ceylon.

"They are jolly scrummy, aren't they?" replied Ceylon.

Mr. Tanaka's eyes glazed over momentarily.

Nilgiri finally stopped the tank and came over. "I think I've finally got it down pat."

"You picked that up pretty fast," observed Mr. Tanaka. "Ready for something more challenging?"

"You had better believe it, sensei!"

"It's called the Scandinavian flick. To get a sharper turn, you unbalance the vehicle by first steering away from the corner, then turning hard into it. But you have to get the timing right."

Nilgiri turned and walked back to the Mark VI. "And off I go again!"

Her first few attempts, however, were dismal, with the cones scattered or crushed under her tracks. Further practice produced only a marginal improvement.

"Eh, don't worry about it," advised Mr. Tanaka. "It's an advanced move, you're not going to master it in a day."

"Fair enough," sighed Nilgiri. "I'll keep at it."

* * *

And so she did, but even after a week the maneuver was still hit or miss for her. One event did brighten her up, though: the delivery of her helmet and Nomex driving suit as required by the race organizers. The school had spared no expense and the ensemble was top-of-the-line, with a stylized version of St. Gloriana's logo emblazoned diagonally across it. Nilgiri immediately put it on and struck several catwalk model poses.

"What do you think?"

"Very natty," agreed Keemun. The two of them and Ceylon were in Nilgiri's room in the halls of residence.

"My last training session is tomorrow," noted Nilgiri. "Then it's off to Suzuka. We'll dock in Mie Prefecture in three days."

"Do you feel ready?" asked Ceylon.

"As I'll ever be, apart from the Scandinavian flick, and I reckon I can get by without it."

Ceylon nodded slowly. "And do you think we got our money's worth with Tanaka-sensei?"

"Oh yes, I'm satisfied," said Nilgiri. "He could have done a bit more in the way of hands-on instruction, though."

"That's 'cos he's been too busy getting his hands on our comestibles!" said Keemun. "I saw him in one of the local tea rooms the other day, stuffing himself with scones and clotted cream."

"That, and the fact that he doesn't seem to like riding in tanks," said Ceylon. "They can't be that much worse than rally cars, can they?"

"Men and tanks don't go together," stated Keemun flatly.

Nilgiri smiled and shook her head. "Tanaka-sensei has given me the benefit of his experience, and I am a better driver for it. I'll see you tomorrow at the track."

* * *

All three met at midmorning the next day by the test track. Darjeeling, Orange Pekoe, Lapsang and Mr. Tanaka were already there, standing beside the Vickers. A Cromwell was also present, lined up at the start with the engine ticking over.

Mr. Tanaka hoisted his cup of tea in greeting. He was also chewing on an Eccles cake, Ceylon noticed. "Good morning, Nilgiri-san! Ready for your final test?"

Nilgiri nodded.

"Good!" said Mr. Tanaka, dusting crumbs off his fingers. "Since I'm a sensei now, I figured I should make the last test something profound, something to show that you have surpassed your teacher. So..."

Mr. Tanaka removed his jacket and handed it to Orange Pekoe, then took the racing helmet being offered to him by Lapsang and put it on.

"...you, Nilgiri-san, must beat the lap time I am about to set," he finished.

"You're joking..." murmured Keemun as the coach hauled himself up on the Cromwell. "He'll never fit in there, he's too... rotund."

Nevertheless, after some minor contortions, Mr. Tanaka squeezed through the tiny driver's hatch and took the controls.

What followed made the girls' jaws drop in disbelief. Mr. Tanaka hurled the tank around the circuit. He barely slowed for the obstacles, threaded neatly through the S-bends and zoomed over the finish, engine blaring triumphantly. Lapsang looked up from her stopwatch.

"Three minutes and two seconds. Your best time yet."

Mr. Tanaka worked his way free of the driver's compartment and dropped to the ground, breathing heavily. "Your turn, Nilgiri-san."

"Since when can you drive a tank?" demanded Keemun, halfway between indignation and admiration.

Darjeeling smiled. "With the help of Lapsang Souchong-san and myself, Tanaka-sensei has been practicing every evening for the past week. Luckily, he is a quick study."

Nilgiri took a deep breath. "Right, here I go."

She sat still in her seat for a minute and then abruptly flipped her helmet visor down. With a crackle of exhaust, she was off. She took a near-perfect line through the banking. She braked hard from full speed into the chicane, momentarily losing grip, but then recovered and whipped through the corners. Through the dirt section she accelerated over the hillocks to keep the tank's nose high as Mr. Tanaka had advised her, leaping off the crests.

"It looks as fast as Tanaka-sensei's run so far," said Ceylon, shading her eyes against the sunlight.

"She's really pushing it," noted Mr. Tanaka.

Safely through the obstacles, Nilgiri blasted through the esses and did a wonderful sliding turn into the final straightaway. Lapsang clicked the button on the stopwatch as she passed, but remained silent.

The Mark VI eased to a halt and Nilgiri removed her helmet and shook out her hair. "Well?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" asked Lapsang gravely.

"Give!"

Lapsang broke out in a broad grin. "Three minutes even."

Nilgiri laughed with relief. "Satisfied, sensei?"

"Very much so," said Mr. Tanaka heartily.

"If I may ask, what would you have done if I hadn't bettered your time?"

"Beats me," said Mr. Tanaka cheerfully. "I told you I was new to this coaching gig."

Nilgiri stood before him and bowed deeply. "Thank you, sensei."

Mr. Tanaka returned the bow. "You're welcome. I have enjoyed my time here, although I think you're all crazy."

"Will you be watching the race?"

"Yeah, but I don't know if I'll be able to be there in person."

"I have taken the liberty of providing some traditional British dessert items for you in addition to your payment," said Darjeeling motioning towards a large wicker picnic basket. "I made the spotted dick myself!"

Standing behind Darjeeling, Ceylon, Nilgiri, Keemun and Orange Pekoe all shook their heads vigorously while miming being sick.

To his eternal credit, Mr. Tanaka somehow managed to keep a straight face.

"Ah, thanks a lot. You're very generous."

"You are welcome! As the poet says, 'it is when you give of yourself that you truly give'."

"Huh?"

Darjeeling pretended not to hear him.

**Author's Notes:** The rally driving methods noted here are generally correct, but who knows if they'll work for driving tanks. I'm not sure I should be encouraging this, but I decided to reference Darjeeling's woeful cooking skills from _Motto Love Love Sakusen Desu_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The huge academy ship steamed slowly into Ise Bay with dawn breaking off to starboard. Nilgiri leaned on the rail of the hanger deck, watching the other school ships riding at anchor. Somewhere in the shadowed land to the west was Suzuka Circuit. The Mark VI was ready, thoroughly overhauled by Lapsang and her three companions in the pit crew. Nilgiri had been assigned racing number four and this had been applied to the turret and hull in black on a white circular background. Lapsang had insisted on giving the rest of the tank a new coat of British racing green. Now, she and the others were bustling about preparing everything for disembarking, leaving Nilgiri alone to look out over the waves.

"Lapsang Souchong-san, you and your team will drive the Pioneer carrying the Mark VI and the QLD with the tools, spares and other kit," instructed Darjeeling. "Orange Pekoe-san, Nilgiri-san, Ceylon-san, Keemun-san and I will take the Land Rover. We'll all drive in convoy to the marshalling area. We're due there by 0800, so let's get cracking."

Docking was a surprisingly quick affair. Once the ship was at rest, a massive gantry swung over and locked into place along the vessel's side. The vehicles waiting on the hanger deck were started up and driven carefully down the ramps to the wharf. Once on the road, they accelerated and turned onto the highway to Suzuka. The three vehicles fell in behind the contingent from Chi-Ha-Tan Academy transporting their Type 95 Ha-Go, and followed them all the way to an access road leading to a large parking lot behind pit row. Uniformed stewards were everywhere, directing each team to its assigned area. "You'll be able to move your tank to the pit garage as soon as you've checked in," said one of them, indicating a white tent off to the side.

Darjeeling and Nilgiri went off to register while the others set to work pitching their own tent and unloading supplies. By the time they returned, a modicum of elegance had been established, including a Persian carpet, folding screens, armchairs and a portable stove. A kettle was already on the boil. They all took tea and ate breakfast while gazing at the huge Ferris wheel that overlooked the encampments. After this refreshment, the Vickers was unloaded and driven into the team's garage fronting the track.

Lapsang and her team were setting up their tools when another official arrived. "Greetings! I am Saito-san, here to do the vehicle inspection. I must make sure your entry meets the sensha-dō rules and has not been modified."

"I remember you! You were one of the judges for our quarterfinal match during the National Championship," said Ceylon.

"Yes, the race organizers hired a lot of us to take advantage of our experience."

While the inspection went on, Nilgiri pulled Ceylon, Keemun and Lapsang aside. "Let's go and visit the other teams!"

* * *

The garage immediately to the west was occupied by Koala Forest Academy. The team members were all dressed in khaki shorts and slouch hats with emu feather plumes. Upon catching sight of the St. Gloriana students, they all stopped what they were doing and stared. There was a lengthy pause.

"Well, well, if it ain't the Poms!" cried a tall, blond girl lounging in a camp chair with her feet up on a table. "Ready to eat our dust?"

Nilgiri and her friends were taken aback. "Poms?!" spluttered Keemun.

The blond girl looked uncertain. "Did I not do that right? Don't Australians call British people 'Poms'?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so, but-"

"OK! And your cricket team is useless too!" She looked pleased with herself.

"I suppose you're referring to the Ashes?" asked Lapsang.

The girl got a deer in the headlights look. "Ashes?"

Lapsang looked suspicious. "You do know about cricket, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, yeah, of course I do…"

Lapsang raised an eyebrow.

"OK, no. Not really."

"Just out of interest, does anyone present actually know how cricket is played?" asked Lapsang curiously.

Everyone shook their heads.

Nilgiri stepped up to the blond girl and offered her hand. "I think we've started off on the wrong foot. I'm Nilgiri-san, the driver for St. Gloriana. Pleased to meet you!"

The girl looked relieved and shook Nilgiri's hand. "G'day, I'm Sheila-san. Sorry about that, I was trying to be really Australian."

After introductions were made, Sheila showed them her vehicle, a Universal Carrier with an awkward-looking roof kit installed. "The nice thing is, it's got this beaut steering wheel instead of levers."

One space over, Saunders had already decorated their area with copious quantities of red, white and blue bunting. The team was standing by their M5 Stuart drinking cola and listening to Bruce Springsteen on a portable radio. Their commander, Kay, greeted them boisterously.

"Hey, Limeys! Come on in! Want a Coke?"

Kay handed out the bottles and introduced them to Natalie, the M5's driver.

"Yeah, we know each other," she said when it was Nilgiri's turn. "You still watching Dukes of Hazzard?"

"Yes, it's great fun," replied Nilgiri.

"Too bad about all the cars they trashed filming it."

"Indeed. Ready to get your butt kicked in the race?"

"Ha! You're funny!" Natalie put her arm around Nilgiri's shoulders and jostled her around in a sisterly way.

Ceylon turned to Nilgiri as they were leaving. "Did you say 'butt kicked'?"

Nilgiri widened her eyes innocently.

The next garage belonged to Maginot Girl's Academy. The team was seated at a heavy wooden table covered in a spotless white linen tablecloth eating a five course gourmet meal. Marianne, the team's driver, noticed them. "Bonjour, les rosbif! Please, have some soufflé! You should find out what real cuisine tastes like."

Keemun turned to Nilgiri. "Is this sort of thing going to happen every time?!" she hissed.

* * *

The last garage on the row was Anzio's. Approaching the door, they could hear the strident voice of their sensha-dō team leader, Anchovy.

"…you will bring glory and recognition to our school! Your unworthy opponents will be crushed under your tracks and swept aside!"

"Yes, Anchovy-sama," replied a quiet voice.

Anchovy, resplendent in her uniform and jackboots, was facing a short, brunette girl with her hair in elaborate braids. They were the only two present. Behind them was a Carro Veloce CV-33 light tank, repainted from its standard sand yellow to a striking Ferrari red. Anchovy noticed the quartet entering and turned, sneering.

"Ah! Here are some of the weaklings you must face!"

She flicked her riding crop around to point at them, letting its tip rest on Ceylon's red jacket. Ceylon stared down at the instrument the same way someone would look at a very old, dead fish.

Nilgiri ignored Anchovy and walked over to the other girl. "Sorry to intrude, but I wanted to meet the other racers. I'm Nilgiri-san with St. Gloriana. Are you Anzio's driver?"

Anchovy interposed herself between them. "We know who you are. We all watched your defeat during the Championship."

The girl looked like she would rather be somewhere else. "I'm Radicchio-san. I am the driver for my team," she said in barely above a whisper.

Anchovy glared. There was a tense silence. Radicchio squirmed.

"Well, very pleased to meet you, Radicchio-san," said Nilgiri. "I suppose we'll be getting along, then."

"Yes, run back to your tea and crumpets!" said Anchovy. "We are busy preparing for victory."

They filed out and stood in the parking lot. Keemun was grinding her teeth audibly. "Why, that jumped up little-"

"That poor girl," said Ceylon. "She doesn't stand a chance."

Nilgiri frowned. "Don't write her off just yet. They wouldn't have chosen her if she was no good."

Just then a commotion behind them announced the arrival of a very familiar Pzkpfw IV. Members of the other teams were milling around it, pointing and waving.

"Hey, it's Ōarai!"

"It's Mako-sama, the Drift Queen!"

The panzer, escorted by the four members of Ōarai's automotive club, made its way slowly through the mass of people and entered one of the empty garages. Everyone congregated around the entrance, trying to get a glimpse inside.

Nilgiri grinned. "I'm going to try to talk to her!" She darted over to the mob and dove into a gap. In another moment, she was lost to view.

The others made their way back to their tent for lunch. After about fifteen minutes, Nilgiri rejoined them.

"So, did you get an autograph?" asked Lapsang, amused.

Nilgiri smiled ruefully. "I fought my way through, only to find that she was passed out asleep in the driver's seat!"

* * *

Qualifying would not take place until the next day, so Nilgiri decided to walk around the track during the afternoon. It would take a while to cover the nearly six kilometers of the course, but she had heard of grand prix drivers doing this before a race to get a feel for its intricacies. She also felt that it would give her an opportunity to savour the experience of being at this storied site, about to take part in her first (and possibly only) tank race.

Beginning at the starting line, she walked around the first right turn, through the five S-bends and around the sweeping left-hand Dunlop Curve. After the Degner Curve, the track turned sharply right to pass under itself; it was the only F1 circuit to have a cross-over pattern. Starting at the hairpin, the paved track became dirt with various obstacles scattered about –low walls, water hazards, dips and berms. She continued along the long turn to the right leading into Spoon Curve, which marked the westernmost point of the circuit. The track then ran back across the overpass before a high-speed turn to the left into the Casino Triangle chicane. After this point, the track reverted to its normal paving and returned her to the main straight and pit lane. The weather was fine and she was not surprised to see several other figures in the distance also out walking.

Back in the garage, she discussed the track with Lapsang and Darjeeling. "Our test track did a fairly good job of approximating the conditions here. Almost half the course is on dirt, with seven turns. They added some extra obstacles like barriers and water that we didn't think of."

"You get some practice time tomorrow morning before the qualifying runs," said Darjeeling. "Also, they've announced a reception tonight with refreshments. Kobayashi-sama will be there, and the press."

"All right," said Nilgiri. "I hope it doesn't go too late, I need to wake up early tomorrow."

**Author's Notes:** Apologies to anyone offended by the stereotyped national personas. The way I see it, they're all Japanese schoolgirls trying to embody the nation their school is modelled on to the point of parody.

Some Universal Carriers had a light armoured roof fitted, but they would still need a bit more work to be sensha-dō legal.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The alarm clock sounded at 6 AM and Nilgiri blearily sat up and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. The reception last night had run long, with a lot of speechifying and some lengthy interviews with reporters for the TV and newspapers. Mr. Kobayashi had spoken about his hope that this would become an annual event in the sensha-dō calendar and Nilgiri had smiled and nodded her way through the event. She got dressed in her driving suit.

"The hour is positively uncivilized," yawned Darjeeling. "Tea is our secret weapon in times such as these."

The caffeine soon revived them and they joined Lapsang with the Mark VI. "Practice runs for four hours, but they're only allowing three tanks at a time, so you've really only got an hour," she said. "You're in the first group."

She handed Nilgiri a wireless headset. "This is what we've been issued to use for communication. We can tell you your lap times and warn you about accidents and the like."

Nilgiri got in the Vickers and started up. It had rained during the night and a light mist was slowly dissipating outside. Lapsang's voice came over the radio. "OK, you are cleared to start."

She drove out of the garage and turned down the pit lane. Once over the threshold, she brought the speed up and merged onto the track proper.

"Don't overdo it," warned Lapsang. "You need to keep the tank in once piece for qualifying this afternoon."

Nilgiri did as she suggested and took the first few laps at a safe pace. Built for far higher speeds, the paved track presented little difficulty, but the obstacles were another story. Collision with a wall or overturning was a real possibility. Gradually, she increased her speed as she became familiar with the course. She encountered only one other vehicle, a StuG III from Continuation High School, which she passed carefully. Eventually, Lapsang told her that her time was up.

"Your best time was seven minutes, thirty three seconds," Lapsang informed her. "Better than the other two teams, but that doesn't mean too much during practice."

"Good-oh," smiled Nilgiri.

She helped Lapsang measure the times for the rest of the teams as their turns came. The Luchs from Kuromorimine was the star of practice, setting the best time of just under seven minutes.

"Not to worry, I think they were pushing harder than you were," advised Lapsang. "Just concentrate on doing well this afternoon."

Darjeeling gave them the rundown on the qualifying. "There are twelve teams entered and three qualifying sessions. The four slowest tanks in the first session get spots twelve through nine in the starting order, the four slowest in the second session get spots eight through five and then the last four compete for spots four through one. Each session lasts forty minutes, with ten minute breaks in between."

"The driver with the best time in the last session gets pole position on the starting grid and will be positioned ahead of everyone else," said Lapsang. "The start is one of the most important parts of the race, so I don't need to tell you how much is riding on this." Nilgiri nodded.

Lunchtime came and went and soon Nilgiri was back in the driver's seat. Lapsang made sure she started the moment qualifying began, to get some clean laps in before the traffic on the track increased. After four laps at a medium pace, she was safely in the middle of the top eight times and returned to the pits. A few minutes later the session ended and the four slowest vehicles retired.

"Bonple, Continuation, BC Freedom Academy and Chi-Ha-Tan are out," said Lapsang. "You should be OK for the second round if you pick up the pace a bit."

After ten minutes, Nilgiri was off again. Her second lap was quite good, with a sub seven minute time. "Keep it up!" praised Lapsang.

"No problem!" Nilgiri responded.

The problem occurred going down one of the many slopes on the circuit. The tank was gathering speed and Nilgiri made what should have been a minor steering correction to maintain her line. To her shock, the tank turned in the opposite direction instead. Before she could react, she had bumped over the rumble strip on the side of the track and pirouetted into the gravel trap. One of the tracks tore loose, flopping onto the ground like a discarded apple peel.

"I'm out! I've lost a track!" cried Nilgiri frantically.

"Good grief!" came back Lapsang. After another moment: "All right, the marshals are sending a recovery vehicle. We'll get you back to the pits."

Nilgiri got down from the tank and pulled off her helmet. Other tanks zipped by on the track. She walked over to the tire barrier to wait for rescue. After what seemed like ages, a JGSDF tank recovery vehicle appeared. The crew hooked up the Mark VI and towed it slowly around the perimeter and back to St. Gloriana's garage. Nilgiri rode along in an official truck.

Lapsang and her team were waiting, expressions grim. "Ladies," said Lapsang, rolling up her sleeves. "Now is our chance to shine. This tank needs to be roadworthy in record time." Armed with their tools, they fell on the tank with a vengeance.

Nilgiri joined Darjeeling, Orange Pekoe, Ceylon and Keemun, who were staring intently at a display showing each team's lap times.

"Four minutes to go for this session," said Darjeeling tersely. Nilgiri was currently lying third behind the Luchs and Pravda's T-34. A few moments later, the Stuart roared by outside and pushed her time down to fourth.

"Two minutes. Ōarai and Anzio are still out there," said Ceylon.

Nilgiri went outside. Radicchio's CV-33 was rounding the final corner with the Pzkpfw IV in hot pursuit. Both tanks charged at the finish line at full throttle. They zoomed by, the breeze ruffling Nilgiri's hair.

Nilgiri closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she went back inside. The others looked up from the screen. Ceylon broke the silence. "You did it. You're in the final four!"

"Won't do me much good without a tank," rejoined Nilgiri. "Lapsang, something went wrong with the steering! It turned the wrong way."

Lapsang, busy jacking up the side of the tank, looked around. "Were you going downhill?"

Nilgiri nodded.

"It's the clutch-brake system," said Lapsang, turning back to her work. "The tank was trying to go faster than the engine can turn the tracks, so when you disengaged the clutch on the one side, you effectively applied engine braking to the other side."

"Well, I'll have to watch out for that then, won't I?"

Lapsang and the others continued labouring as the minutes ticked by. The last qualifying session began. Nilgiri looked outwardly calm, but Ceylon noticed her hand drumming on her leg.

More time passed. Every so often, one of the three remaining tanks would speed by and they would go over to look at the recorded times.

"The Luchs is flying. They have a good crew, there," said Ceylon. "I'll have to pop over later and have a chinwag."

"Mmm," agreed Nilgiri shortly, looking at the clock.

"Twenty-five minutes left," said Darjeeling to Lapsang. "How are you coming on?"

"Absolutely tickety-boo, as long as people stop chatting with us," snapped Lapsang. "Nilgiri, get your stuff together and get in. We'll tell you when to go."

Nilgiri quickly clambered in and put on her helmet. The track was being winched back together on the suspension. She sat still, trying to breathe deeply and slowly.

Lapsang began hammering in the connecting pin, causing a huge din. "Nearly there!" One last blow and she stood back.

"Tension looks good!" called one of the other automotive club members.

"OK, let her down!"

The jack was lowered and Nilgiri pressed the ignition. Darjeeling was standing by the side of the tank. "You have eighteen minutes!"

Nilgiri gave a thumbs-up she didn't quite feel and pressed the accelerator. She moved ahead carefully, making sure everything was working smoothly. It all felt fine. Lapsang came on the radio. "The time to beat is sitting at six minutes, thirty eight seconds."

"Understood." She spent her first lap getting back into the driving rhythm. The radio crackled again and Lapsang's voice sounded in her ear. "The other tanks are back in the pits. The track is all yours."

Ten minutes left. There would only be one shot at this. She floored the throttle and began the second lap. The first set of turns was straightforward; just follow the ideal driving line. She approached the ninth turn wide, slowed, and cut through the apex. Under the bridge and the off-road section was visible ahead. She preselected second gear, pushed the gear change pedal and braked. The nose of the Vickers dipped, and she drifted around the hairpin, revving the engine hard. Up and over the undulations, zig-zagging to avoid the barriers, then a splash sent droplets of mud flying over her as she negotiated a large puddle. Then it was around Spoon Curve and along the west straight. She went airborne off a large knoll, touched down and turned into the high-speed curve, always mindful of the reverse-steering effect. The Casino Triangle was coming up fast. Nilgiri made up her mind in a flash. She angled away to the outside and then jerked the steering levers into a hard right turn. The Scandinavian flick worked perfectly. A tap of the brakes, and she slewed around the next corner. Once back on the asphalt, there was nothing left to do but go full tilt for the finish.

The shouts and cheers coming over the headphones told her all she needed to know.

* * *

The final starting lineup was posted a few hours later:

12 - BC Freedom Academy

11 - Bonple

10 - Continuation

9 - Chi-Ha-Tan

8 - Koala

7 - Maginot

6 - Anzio

5 - Ōarai

4 - Pravda

3 - Saunders

2 - Kuromorimine

1 - St. Gloriana

"Wonderful," said Darjeeling. "As the English say, you should start as you mean to finish."

Lapsang cut in. "The start tomorrow could get hairy. You've all been racing pretty much on your own. Now you'll have to worry about collisions. Your primary task is getting to the first corner ahead of everyone else."

"I see," mused Nilgiri. "That's why pole position is so important. If I'm in front, I can concentrate on getting good lap times while everyone else is busy avoiding each other and figuring out how to pass."

"The race is ten laps. There's nothing in the rules that says you can't come in to the pits, but you'll have enough petrol for the duration and I doubt we'll be able to fix any mechanical issues quickly enough to keep you in contention," added Lapsang.

Nilgiri smiled. "Understood. Listen, I want to thank all of you for supporting me in this. No matter what happens tomorrow, I'll be doing something I've always wanted to do."

"You'll do well, I know you will," grinned Ceylon.

"Just eat your katsu tonight," said Keemun.

**Author's Notes:** The light tank Mk. VI apparently did suffer from a reverse steering effect when going down steep slopes, caused by the relatively primitive clutch-brake steering system.

So, what tanks does BC Freedom Academy operate? French ones? Captured German tanks? American equipment? I don't know. What I do know is that we're missing out on a Canadian-themed school, eh?


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Race day! Nilgiri fancied she could feel the excitement coursing through the paddock. There was a capacity crowd in the stands. Nilgiri wondered how they were split between racing fans and sensha-dō followers. She hoped they would not come away disappointed; the race would be run at much slower speeds than the former were used to and there would be none of the combat that the latter favoured.

The tanks were being moved from the closed park where they had spent the night to the starting grid. Nilgiri was standing by the pit lane guard rail enjoying the atmosphere when she became aware of someone approaching behind her. Turning, she was surprised to see Radicchio.

"Radicchio-san! May I wish you good luck today?"

Radicchio blushed and swallowed visibly.

"Thank you, Nilgiri-san. I wanted to apologize for Anchovy-sama the other day". Her voice was barely audible.

Nilgiri waved her hand dismissively. "Oh well, that's just her way, isn't it? We ought to be used to it by now. Are you looking forward to the race?"

Radicchio nodded without hesitation. Nilgiri noticed that her racing coveralls were obviously secondhand. They were a size too big and unadorned except for a few Anzio emblems someone had sewn on.

"I'm happiest when I'm driving... it's like I understand the tank and it understands me". Her voice had strengthened perceptibly, but then she blushed again. "I guess that sounds like nonsense."

Nilgiri smiled encouragingly. "Not to a fellow driver."

Radicchio nodded again. "I must go and get ready."

"See you on the track!"

Nilgiri turned went back into their garage. With their work done until the race began, the rest of the team minus Darjeeling was having tea. They were all wearing their scarlet sensha-dō team uniforms and Ceylon had on her lucky pink and blue striped scarf.

"Where's Darjeeling-san?"

"She's gone to meet someone at the gates," said Ceylon mysteriously.

She returned a moment later, and not alone.

"Tanaka-sensei!"

"Hi everyone. How's my star pupil doing?"

Nilgiri bowed. "Your only pupil, you mean. I got pole position!"

Mr. Tanaka returned her bow. "Yeah, I saw your excellent work in qualifying yesterday on the news, and made a last-minute decision to take the train over here this morning. The tickets were sold out, but then I thought I could watch from here. Darjeeling-san was nice enough to finagle me a pass."

Unprompted, Orange Pekoe silently handed Mr. Tanaka a plate of Jaffa Cakes.

* * *

"Drivers, to your vehicles!" The announcement echoed around the starting area. Nilgiri and the other drivers walked over to their tanks and stood by them. The spectators began applauding. Once everyone was in place, the announcer came back on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the first tank grand prix at Suzuka Circuit!"

The stands responded with enthusiastic cheering.

"Please welcome the drivers! In position one we have Nilgiri-san from St. Gloriana Women's Academy, driving a Vickers Mark VI!"

Nilgiri waved both hands at the crowds.

"In position two, Kitaguchi-san from Kuromorimine, driving the Pzkpfw II Luchs!" the announcer continued the introductions. Nilgiri pulled on her gloves and donned her helmet. The sound was suddenly muffled and she could hear her pulse, faster than usual.

A few minutes later: "Drivers, ready!" She climbed into the driving compartment, hoping that she wouldn't slip in front of so many onlookers. Sitting down, she placed her hands and feet on the controls. Looking to the front, she could see the first curve away in the distance. Heat haze was rising off the track. It was sunny now, but a storm front was looming off to the southeast.

"Start engines!"

Motors turned over up and down the grid, spewing exhaust fumes. To their embarrassment, the team from BC Freedom Academy had to have an auxiliary battery wheeled out to their tank to get it running. The steady beat of engines dominated the air. Nilgiri checked the gauges, carefully moved the gear preselect lever into first and looked up at the five lights that would signal the start.

The first light illuminated. The growls of the engines rose in pitch as the drivers brought the RPMs up. Second light. Nilgiri replayed her perfect start over and over in her mind. Third light. The unfortunate drivers in the rear of the formation were coughing as a blue miasma of exhaust smoke covered the track. Fourth light. The stands were twinkling with camera flashes. Fifth light. The revving reached a crescendo.

Then, that long, dreamlike pause until the lights went out. Nilgiri's world compressed down to the five red signals on the overhead gantry. Her foot pressed down ever so slightly on the gear change pedal.

Between one blink and the next, the lights were extinguished. Nilgiri engaged the gear, pressed the accelerator and began moving. Her speed came up quickly and she began to move to the outside of the track in preparation for the first turn ahead. In her peripheral vision, the Luchs was creeping up on the inside, using its speed advantage. Nilgiri tried to ignore it and hold her line.

In the scrum behind them, the exhaust cloud was causing visibility problems. Metallic clanks and squeals sounded as the vehicles made contact with each other.

Nilgiri was just ahead of the Luchs as she started her turn and as she doggedly bored in towards the inside of the track at the apex, it was forced to fall back. Ceylon and the others watching the live feed clapped their hands in appreciation. Their attention was soon diverted, however, as Pravda's T-34 and Saunders' M5 began to enter the curve.

Like Nilgiri, the M5 was ahead slightly and following the ideal racing line, but the T-34 attempted to cut in on the inside. The T-34's driver either never saw the Stuart with her restricted field of vision or else her competitiveness trumped her better judgment. She didn't yield and the two tanks met at an angle in a crash that sent the Stuart spinning halfway around and forced the Russian tank to a halt. Those watching from afar could see the drivers gesticulating at each other angrily. Yellow flags appeared by the side of the track to denote the accident and the other tanks following had to detour carefully around the stalled vehicles. Pravda's tank recovered first, but had to wait for the traffic to pass before it could proceed. The Stuart started a three-point turn just as the T-34 got underway, and the two collided again. The marshals with the yellow flags shook their heads in disbelief. At last, both tanks were pointing in the right direction and roared off in pursuit of the rest of the field.

Up in front, Nilgiri was dueling with the Luchs through the esses. The faster tank had no opportunity to pass and contented itself with riding Nilgiri's heels and waiting for her to make a mistake. Once into the Dunlop Curve, the Luchs pulled alongside, but was then forced to slow for the Degner Curve as the Vickers again had the better driving line. They both turned into the downhill stretch passing under the crossover and again ran side-by-side. They hit the unpaved portion simultaneously. This time, the Luchs held the position advantage going into the hairpin, but Nilgiri's training let her drift around quickly on the inside while her opponent struggled. The obstacles on the west half of the course prevented either tank from reaching top speed, and Nilgiri maintained her lead. The German tank lost more time in the chicane, and although it tried to pass on the main straightaway, it was still behind Nilgiri as the second lap started.

"So far, so good," said Ceylon.

"If she can do that for the next nine laps, she's got it," agreed Mr. Tanaka.

"We are seeing a real battle for first place between St. Gloriana and Kuromorimine," the commentator enthused. "But the competition for third is heating up as Ōarai challenges Anzio!"

Almost unnoticed in the hurly-burly of the start, Radicchio had out-accelerated Mako's heavier tank and was successfully defending her position. The CV-33 nimbly danced around the obstacles and always seemed to be in the right position to block the Panzer IV.

More tanks began their second lap. Saunders and Pravda had already moved up several places, easily passing the slower tanks in the back of the pack.

Nilgiri remained consistent for the next two laps and the Luchs was content for the moment to follow her closely and wait for an opportunity. Radicchio and Mako were still some ways back fighting their own private contest. The M5 passed the T-34 on the main straightaway and caught up to Koala's Universal Carrier in sixth.

Nilgiri and the Luchs had by now begun to lap the back markers. BC Freedom Academy's tank was labouring along in last place when they caught it coming into the right-hander before the underpass. Nilgiri was holding in tight behind the slower vehicle, planning to pass it after the turn, when she noticed flames licking from the engine compartment. There were only a few at first, but then they started shooting out from everywhere. The engine blew suddenly in a great rolling cloud of smoke, engulfing Nilgiri. The crippled tank proceeded to dump oil all over the track. Worried about a collision, Nilgiri hauled on the steering levers and found herself spinning out of control. She had the briefest glimpse of the Luchs' mottled camouflage pattern speeding by and then she was in the gravel of the runoff area.

"No! What's happened?" cried Ceylon back in the pits. A camera helicopter hovering overhead was showing the Vickers at a standstill in the gravel trap. The BC Freedom Academy tank had exited the track on the opposite side and was smouldering away by the tire barrier. The driver leaped out of the vehicle and sprinted to a safe distance. The downwash from the helicopter blades cleared the smoke, showing the Luchs disappearing in the distance and the tanks from Ōarai and Anzio coming up fast.

"Drat!" muttered Nilgiri under her breath. The engine was still running, so she eased forwards. No sign of any track damage. She crunched over the shingle back towards the track. Red lights flashing beyond the fence announced the arrival of the fire trucks.

"You've got company," warned Lapsang on the radio. "Anzio and Ōarai are just entering the turn."

Nilgiri gunned the engine, accelerating as hard as she could. She merged in just ahead of the CV-33. She kept ahead of them through the hairpin, around Spoon Curve, along the west straight and through the Casino Triangle into lap five.

"What a recovery for St. Gloriana!" cried the announcer. "Kuromorimine leads after four laps and it's a three-way struggle for second!" Farther back, Natalie had moved past the Universal Carrier, but Shelia was still denying Pravda's T-34. The Stuart's left track hit the side of a hummock and the tank tilted over and ran along balanced on one track for several meters. The spectators heard a faint "Yaaahoooo!"

The positions remained unchanged for another lap. The Luchs was slowed by more back markers, and the trio of Nilgiri, Radicchio and Mako gradually closed in.

The dark clouds over the ocean had advanced bit by bit until they blotted out the sun and the air grew suddenly cool. A fat raindrop landed in Keemun's cup of tea as she paced around by the pit lane. She retreated hastily inside the garage as the heavens opened. Rain sluiced down sending sheets of water cascading over the gutters.

Out on the circuit the tanks continued on, throwing up huge rooster tails of spray. With no windshield wipers, the drivers were forced to rely on the transparent tear off strips on their helmets to help them see where they were going.

Nilgiri was starting to feel tired. The rainwater trickling down her neck didn't help matters. By the seventh lap, she could see the Luchs ahead of her and concentrated on getting within striking distance. Every low-lying area in the off-road section was turning into a small lake. The tanks were covered in globs of mud flung up by the treads. She bumped over the undulations, trying to keep control of the tank as the surface became more and more slippery.

The situation was worst on the overpass, where the drainage system was compromised from all the earth that had been dumped on the pavement. The Luchs was almost all the way across it when the berm it was climbing suddenly crumbled, sending it sideways. It slid smoothly and inevitably into one of the deeper holes. A wave of thick, viscous mud sprayed up and over the edge.

"Ha! Kuromorimine's tank is bogged down!" shouted Keemun triumphantly. "It's Nilgiri's race now!"

Nilgiri saw the accident and angled to avoid the stuck vehicle. She was past it and in the clear, or so she thought, when the Vickers struck something unyielding and came to a dead stop. The motor stalled instantly.

The yellow flags came out for the third time. The camera view on the monitor in the garage showed what had happened: the Mark VI had hit one of the wall obstacles, almost buried under a layer of muck. Darjeeling put her hands to her mouth.

"Gordon Bennett! Not again!" groaned Lapsang. Mr. Tanaka grabbed the microphone.

"Nilgiri-san! It's not over yet! You've got to get going again!"

"I'm trying!" replied Nilgiri. She pressed the ignition and the starter ground away. First Radicchio, then Mako threaded their way carefully past the shunt.

"Come on old girl, come on," muttered Nilgiri. She tried again and the engine caught once, coughed and then quit.

Nilgiri tried to stay calm. "Third time lucky…" First one cylinder fired, then another, then all six. "That's the ticket!"

"Good work! Now go! Don't worry about the other tanks, just drive!"

Nilgiri reversed, turned and eased forwards. She gave a quick wave to the approaching recovery unit.

"Saunders and Pravda are coming up fast," said Lapsang, reaching for the radio. Mr. Tanaka stopped her. "Don't put pressure on her yet. She has to get her rhythm back."

The M5 and the T-34 had finally returned to the head of the field and were engaged in a no-holds-barred battle. They were taking the turns side-by-side, sparks flying as the tanks clashed together. Nilgiri was still ahead of them, but the gap was narrowing.

"Her lap time is way down, even with the rain," said Lapsang as the Vickers passed by to complete its eighth lap.

"It's easing up," said Ceylon, looking outside. "That'll help, won't it?"

Mr. Tanaka picked up the radio again. "Nilgiri-san, remember where you are. This is Suzuka Circuit, one of the best in the world. You know you can do it justice."

A chuckle came over the speakers.

Under pressure from Sheila, Marianne overshot the hairpin and the Universal Carrier cut past the French tank into sixth place.

During the penultimate lap, the first five tanks bunched together as Nilgiri fought back up to the leaders and Saunders and Pravda joined her. Radicchio was as consistent as ever and foiled every attempt made to get by her. Their order remained the same going into lap ten.

"It's the final lap!" the announcer called. "Five are in contention, but there are only three places on the podium! We can expect an exciting finish with everything to play for!"

No challenges from turns one through seven, everyone just trying not to make any mistakes. The T-34 moved up beside the Stuart on the Dunlop Curve only to fall back on the next turn. Mako tried to out brake Radicchio going into turn nine, producing an ear-splitting shriek as the tracks locked up briefly, but Radicchio went around on the outside and used her quicker handling and acceleration to pull ahead.

Now they went into the mud for the last time. Mako showed her driving chops, drifting around the hairpin and pulled level with the CV-33 on turn twelve. Radicchio held her nerve and was faster in the Spoon Curve. Nilgiri was feeling more confident, and matched all their moves in third place. They all zig-zagged down the back stretch, spreading out over the width of the track as much as they dared. Throwing caution to the wind, the M5 and the T-34 were bounding over the hills flat out and drew up on either side of Nilgiri. She found herself sandwiched in between them with no room to maneuver.

They all slowed for the turn into the chicane and Nilgiri realized that neither Pravda's driver on the inside nor the Stuart pressing in towards her from the outside were going to give way. The Stuart's tracks clattered around only inches away and getting closer…

Nilgiri glanced ahead and saw the Pzkpfw IV as broad as a barn door in the middle of the next bend. The angle looked about right. She floored the accelerator, shot out in front and yanked the Mark VI left, cutting the second corner as much as she could. She was going far too fast for the right-angle turn – but she had judged correctly and the side schürzen of the panzer loomed up beside her. The heavier German tank barely reacted as she glanced off its side with a ringing concussion.

"Yes! Bank shot!" shouted Mr. Tanaka. The others gasped and applauded. The Mark VI came into view around the last turn, outpacing Mako. The audience in the stands was on its feet and the wall of noise was deafening. Nilgiri could see the bright red of Radicchio's tank ahead as they all charged at the line. The chequered flag dropped and there was a cacophony of shouts over the radio.

"Anzio wins! St. Gloriana second! Ōarai is third!" roared the PA.

* * *

The rain had finally passed and sunlight glistened on the wet pavement. The vehicles were mobbed when they arrived back at the garages with team members offering compliments or commiseration.

"You did it! You did it!" yelled Ceylon, hugging Nilgiri the moment she emerged from the tank. Then Darjeeling was there, shaking her hand and telling her what a jolly good show it was. Mr. Tanaka just bowed and then slapped her on the back. "Too bad it wasn't first place," sympathized Keemun. Nilgiri just shook her head. "All the more reason to continue holding this event, I'll have another chance next time."

The other teams stopped by to congratulate her. She went over to Anzio and Ōarai's garages, but was told that Radicchio wasn't there and Mako was napping. She didn't see them until the podium ceremony a while later. They were each handed bottles of sparkling mineral water. Radicchio held hers awkwardly and smiled timidly through the camera flashes. Mako gave a lazy salute-wave to the audience with her usual unreadable expression. Nilgiri tutted in exasperation, then shook up her bottle and sprayed the other two thoroughly. There was a shocked silence. Then, all three of them dissolved into fits of giggles.

"You're pretty good drivers," said Mako as they shook hands.

"Congratulations, Radicchio-san," said Nilgiri. "That was some very fine driving indeed."

"Thank you," whispered Radicchio. "This will mean a lot for my school."

In the crowd, Keemun turned to Ceylon. "What really sticks in my craw is that Anchovy will be insufferable now."

"Don't be too sure," said Ceylon looking over her shoulder. To Keemun's surprise, Anchovy was standing at the back with a smile on her face, oblivious to the tears coursing down her cheeks. "I think she's just happy that her team actually won something for a change."

There was a press interview afterwards, where Nilgiri did her best to boost the tank racing concept. Then it was back to their encampment in the parking lot.

"So, what are you going to do with your prize money?" asked Ceylon.

Nilgiri smiled. "I have decided to make an anonymous donation to Anzio High School," she announced. "I know they need the money."

Darjeeling nodded approvingly. "Let me tell you a proverb: you may light another's candle at your own without loss."

"Pardon?"

"What are we waiting around here for?" demanded Keemun. "There's celebrating to be done!"

"Well," said Nilgiri. "I suppose the orange juice is on me, then."

**The End**

**Author's notes:** Well, that's it. I hope you all enjoyed it. As always, thanks very much for the reviews, follows and faves.


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